He who sings....

Scares away his woes. -Cervantes

 When I sing, it tends to not scare away not only my woes, but also any man, woman, child, animal, or unbroken piece of glass within earshot.


Which can be a pain in the rear. I mean, sitting in the car humming along to the radio is fun... Until the driver and other passengers turn the volume up in order to tune me out. Or when my parents say, "Well, you are good at some things... Like reading. But music, you should probably just leave alone." Or when my roommates start singing and playing guitar and sounding beautiful, and I'm sitting off to the side, feeling foolish and getting more cranky by the second.


So when hannaHRose pulled out the bass a few days ago and started strumming on it, and I saw that it was something I thought I could maybe do, I was intrigued.


I'm not someone who asks for help willingly, and I'm not very teachable. (I'm working on it.) So... I was NOT willing to ask hannaHRose to teach me.


Until, that is, I tried to Google it. And realized that reading bass tabs is absolutely ridiculous.


I gave in and asked. And discovered that hannaHRose is a very good teacher, if and when I allow myself to be taught.


So, I can offically (kind of, anyway) play "Seven Nation Army" on the bass.


My left pointer finger is purple, and I can feel my pulse beating in each of my fingertips.


And yet... Even as my brain is telling me that I won't ever want to pick up the bass again, the sense of accomplishment I have right now is reminding me that I will do it tomorrow. And probably the next day. And maybe the next.


Until either I fail miserably enough at musical talent that I want to beat the bass in... Or, I semi-master it and discover that maybe, somewhere, there is a musical gene in me.

I had a solo in this choir concert; there was a slight issue with my voice coming through the mic, which they conveniently "forgot" to turn on. Also, I don't know what's going on with this face, but this is the only picture that exists; I think all the others got deleted because of the painful memories.

All women become like their mothers.

That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his. -Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Ernest

I've been watching Lizzie McGuire recently. Growing up we didn't have cable, and I don't think I was allowed to watch that show anyway... But every other girl around my age learned some all-important life lessons from Lizzie and her animated other self back in the early 2000's. In every episode, in less than 20 minutes, Lizzie learns how valuable her friendships are, that her parents truly love her, but sometimes screw up anyway, that she is an asset to the rest of the world- even if her world only exists within her school and family.

As I've watched Lizzie interact with her mom (who is kind of a nut-job), and the similarities between them, I've also been noticing the differences. And I realized something.

Yes, Lizzie is like her mom. But she is not her mom.

I'll say it again.

The lesson that I've learned from Lizzie McGuire is that I am not my mother.

Don't get me wrong- I love my mom. She's awesome and has done the best she could with me and my little brother. She's an awesome cook, her baked goods could kill, she isn't afraid of what people think and speaks her mind.

And I have grown up my entire life thinking I have to be all of that, just like her.

And being sorely disappointed.

I can cook and bake, but more often than not, it comes out as a disaster that I don't want to let anyone touch. I am so scared of what people think of me and if they're judging me that I struggle to not spend all of my time trying to not act like someone else, but just accept myself. I don't speak my mind, but rather tend to stay quiet and pretend that I agree with everything that is going on.

I realized... I am not my mother, and I'm not supposed to be. My family, my friends, my future husband- none of them look down on me for it, nor are they constantly comparing me to her.

She is her, I am me, and life goes on.

First family picture.

At the 40th birthday party I planned for her

Saying good-bye right after helping me move into the House O' Bricks

Sleep...

is a symptom of coffee deprivation. -Unknown

When I moved into the House O' Bricks, I was a bit nervous about the food thing... I have issues with eating consistently as it is, but I knew the eating habits of hannaHRose, and I was concerned. I try to eat kind of healthfully, and I try to eat things that I make myself- not too much out of a box. (HR, on the other hand, is content with boxes upon boxes of mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese.)

The day I arrived at the house, however, I noticed that there were several things in the fridge that were the same or similar to what I eat. After a few weeks of confusion, I realized that Kans and I eat the same food. Kind of.

We both eat things like hummus, and onions and green peppers go in everything. However, our main food groups are both the same... I made a Natalie Dee-style food pyramid to show our eating habits:

The main group is grains, like bread and potatoes. Then the middle one is cheese, and the top one is donuts. The center of our diets, however, is the daily cup (or, in Kans' case, cups) of coffee.

So, I have a buddy in my eating habits. It works out well for me.

Further explaination:

Bread, or some grain, is the basis of all things good. Potatoes are awesome baked or mashed. Tortillas are amazing things too. And, above all, bread is favorite. Of all kinds. Banana, white, wheat, homemade, store bought, etc.

The middle group, cheese, is all important. It provides calcium, which helps me to not break my bones when Kans decides to have the route of our walk follow the icy steps on campus and I almost fall. It also gets put in EVERYTHING- quesadillas, on baked potatoes, stirred in mashed ones, on top of soup, or just plain eaten.

Donuts are the smallest one because, while a staple, they only come around every couple of months. And, when I do get them, they don't go away fast enough. Last Saturday, Kans and I each bought a 6-pack... Which was a bad idea. By the time we had each eaten half, we were tired of them. It was a good fix for the next few months, though. (Also, these are technically a grain... So maybe they shouldn't have their own category? I'm choosing to not get technical about such things.)

While on the whole coffee only makes up a small percentage of my total intake, it is possibly the most important part of my overall diet. I drink a cup of coffee any time I have to wake up to an alarm- otherwise, the world ceases to function as necessary. Well, I cease to function as required to exist in the world (strange how people don't cater to me when I'm low on sleep...).

Moral of the story: cheese, bread, donuts, and coffee are good. Ucky vegetables and meat, bad.

Nothing encourages creativity...

Like the chance to fall flat on one's face. -James D. Finley

 I've discovered what my problem is.


I do a project, and it turns out AWESOME... And then I get ambitious, and I do things that are too hard without any transition, and then I want to shoot my life in its face.


Being snowed in leaves lots of time for crafting. And we've had plenty of it, thanks to about 6 inches of snow and a layer of ice underneath of it- also, us not possessing a shovel. (We should work on that before the next storm, eh?)


This weekend, I was on a bit of a recycled kick, so I made a wallet out of an old milk carton. Which was actually super awesome. I attached a bit of ribbon and felt very clever and creative.

The lid twists off in order to open it.

Then Monday was sewing day, part one at the House O' Bricks. I finished my t-shirt quilt (there will be no pictures of this, since it's kind of the ugliest thing ever.... But awesome anyway.). Then, Monday night, I burned a notebook that had some stuff I have been dealing with in it, and it needed to go away.


Tuesday morning, I woke up and thought "I have a brilliant idea." I went down to the fire and pulled the spiral from the notebook out of the ashes, then twisted it into my new purity ring- which is pretty bangin', if you ask me.


This is where my head started to get big. And so I thought, ohhh, I'm going to make this super awesome flower thing out of newspaper. (Thanks, Kans, for showing me the recycled origami book. I might blame this one on you in the future.) It was a pain in my butt, and I got super annoyed, but I made it the whole way through... And then the darn thing didn't even look like a flower, it just looked like a pinwheel.


I was pissed. Also, Kans' project wasn't working correctly, so she was annoyed too... I decided to quit crafting for the day and just laugh at Kans.


Eventually, Sarah started altering some of her dresses, which meant that I got to help pin them. No big deal.


Until hannaHRose wanted a dress altered, too.


See, hannaHRose is super stressed about being poked with pins. So every time my hand got near her, she would say "Don't poke me." I heard it like, 6 times. It was obnoxious, even though I understand the concern.


I ended up poking myself like, 13987 times in order to make sure hannaHRose didn't get poked. And then her dress required re-pinning and adjusting and was just a general obnoxious pain.


I woke up this morning cranky. I don't know if it was left overs from last night, or being stuck in for 3 days, or what the issue was, but I snapped at Sarah basically the instant she came downstairs. And then I realized I was being super lame.


hannaHRose managed to get her tank out, and when we got home, I started a new project- a crochet pig. It's actually kind of cute.


We moved all the cars today, and hopefully I'll be able to get to work tomorrow... But I was thinking about it, and when I get stuck somewhere, or things aren't going exactly the right way, I seem to revert to "Life sucks."


And really, that's not it. I think sometimes we have good days and we have bad days, but when my outlook on life is "Life sucks", then I'm never going to have a good day.




Pretty good for a brain full of snot.

So that's where peanut butter comes from.

What garlic is to salad...

Insanity is to art. -Augustus Saint-Gaudens

I live in a house full of creative people.

I mean, one of my roommates is an art teacher who seems to be amazing at anything she tries; one can fold a paper crane in about two seconds flat; and one can work magic behind a sewing machine.

And honestly, I feel rather creative. Sometimes. I go through phases. Like, I crocheted for almost a week straight. I made a quilt, a skirt, and a halter top, all out of old t-shirts. Currently, I'm kind of obsessed with recycled art- wallets out of milk cartons and juice pouches, notebooks out of cereal boxes, etc.

I get pretty proud of myself when I finish a project. Like I've learned something new, and I'm a rock star for it.

However, I then look at pictures of what other people have done, and my bubble is kind of burst. Like, my stuff is not creative at all.

I'm choosing to take the following as inspiration, instead. Check these out- their awesome :)

3-D chalk art; that dude holding the hose is a drawing.

"Reverse graffiti"- This guy makes stencils and then washes the area under them, instead of painting it. (He still gets in trouble.)

That's packing tape. Made into ducks.

Sharpie.

It takes courage to grow up...

And become who you truly are. -E. E. Cummings

I've always been one of those people who is unhappy with who I am as a person. I am a shape shifter, always trying to fit what I think people are expecting of me. When they asked me what my life goals were as a senior, I should have listed "make sure that anyone who has ever had any inkling of my existence, ever, likes me." as number one.

Problem is, no matter how hard I work at that, not everyone is going to be thrilled with me. Especially not all the time.

I think we all go through phases where we shift who we are to fit where we are; the music we're listening to, who our friends are, even the area we live in. However, I think I do it more than normal people.

When I first moved to Cullowhee, I wanted so badly to impress everyone... And so I shifted to what I thought they liked.

I think it was subconscious, but it happened. And the girl I was shifting to be like noticed. And called me on it.

I think she actually said, "Have an original thought or idea or SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T COME FROM ME FIRST."

I was hurt. And shocked. No one had ever called me on it before. I didn't know how to deal with it.

We worked it out, long story short. I think I'm doing better. I'm discovering who I am aside from everyone else.

But I think I still shape-shift a little. This evening, Kans and I went on a walk. (I'm embarrassed now because I know she'll probably read this, but... I'm over it. Kind of.)

I was super excited. When I moved in here, I wanted to get to know her, and it just hasn't happened... Everyone is busy and when we're home we all kind of just collapse. It's only in these last couple of weeks, really, that I feel like Kans and I have started having some semblance of a friendship, instead of merely coexisting.

As we were walking through the snowy, icy campus tonight and talking, I noticed myself watching what I said and did very carefully. I was again concerned with "She won't like me unless I critique everything I say to her first. I have to be careful."

I quickly snapped out of it, and we had (what I thought was, anyway) a pleasant walk.

But it made me wonder... How many of my relationships have I done that in?

Where have I shifted to try and get people to like me, and, in turn, pushed them away?

It kind of bummed me out. I've lost a lot of relationships, potentially awesome friendships, because I've been too scared of what people think of me.

I'm at that phase in my life right now where I either give up or where I fight it out. Where my life becomes what I make it, instead of where my parents guide me or any of that.

It sucks. I'd like to lay down and die, but something within me makes me slug through it.

I guess I know something better is waiting on the other side... It's just the fighting through to figure out what.

Preppy phase

"I love my family, but my friends hate theirs, so I have to pretend to hate mine" phase

"I hate the world outside of my computer" phase

"I hate everything in the whole entire world in general" phase

Current- I hate being dirty (notice glaring at dirt on hand), classy but not quite average, pretty sometimes but most of the time just want to wear what I want, hanging out with friends and going with the flow, no matter what that means phase.

So often we do things that make sense to us...

And then ask God to come alongside our plans, rather than looking at the things God promises to bless and acting alongside of them. We know that God's blessing will follow if we are with the poor, the merciful, the hungry, the persecuted, the peacemakers. But sometimes we'd rather have a God who conforms with our logic than conform our logic to the God whose wisdom is a stumbling block to the world of smart bombs and military intelligence. -Shane Claiborne, Jesus for President

I've never been someone who stays up late. I actually used to sleep about 14 hours a day, only being awake for school and to eat dinner and do homework in the evenings. Since moving to the House O' Bricks, however, I have become quite the night owl- either because that's when I see my roommates, or just because I have discovered how productive I am in the dark hours when normal people are sleeping.

So, when New Year's Eve rolled around this year, I knew that it would be one of the first years when it would not be a struggle to stay awake and welcome in the new year. (Last year, my family and I were traveling to Texas and were staying in a hotel in Houston on New Year's Eve... We all went to bed about 10 PM.) I was kind of looking forward to it, even though we didn't have any big plans.

We ended up having absolutely no plans, actually. hannaHRose went for a drive, and Swah and I watched Treasure Planet. Then Kans joined the party, and we all went out in the driveway and threw dinky little fireworks and got scared that hannaHRose was going to light herself on fire.

hannaHRose and Sarah had plans on new year's day, and I wasn't invited. Which is fine, because it wasn't with my friends, but my automatic feeling is rejection. It's actually kind of retarded. People do something, and instead of finding something to do, I default to feeling rejected and left out, which puts me in a bad mood and then makes everyone miserable.

So, I was going to sit at the house and pout all day, knowing that it was a horrible start to my new year, but hey... I felt validated.

I was sitting in the living room, feeling kind of pathetic about my life and having no motivation to do anything. I hadn't done my chore for the week yet, the living room was filthy, and my computer had stopped working. I hadn't showered in a few days, my laundry needed done, my room needed cleaned... And I just wanted to mope and hope that someone would do it for me.

hannaHRose (an enthusiastic ball of energy on this particular morning, much to my dismay) and Sarah left to go hang out with their friends, and I curled up on the couch... Only to have the realization that I had to get out of the house. I could not continue to be a brat about this. I have a life, and it is separate from my roommates, even if they do exist in it.

It had been raining for several hours at this point, and I thought I'd go down to the river and watch it rush past and listen to the rain and have a chat with God. I grabbed a notebook and my pens and markers and got in the car.

Well, Mrs. Cleaver is kind of a gas sucker. Which meant that after I got about 5 minutes down the road and and hadn't found the river yet, and wasn't sure how much further it was, I decided that this was dumb and I should just go home.

As I turned onto campus though, I realized... I hadn't dealt with what was going on inside of me yet. And it wasn't going to happen at home.

I pulled into a parking lot, turned the car off, and watched as the rain pounded the windshield. And I cried. For the first time in several months. And it was ugly.

Now, when I cry, it isn't just a few tears and a one tissue blow my nose and throw it away kind of deal. It is a red rimmed eyes that are all puffy the next morning, whole box of tissues next to me but it's coming too fast to even deal with that and so I just use my sleeves and then gross myself out, disgusting, horrifying, rare event. And I had one of those.

As I talked to God, all of the things about me that drive me crazy started coming to mind. And so I thought, Well, instead of resolutions, I'll make a list of life changes.

And so I did.

I didn't want it to be a list of things that I thought about for a little while and then forgot, feeling bad about the whole situation later. And I definitely didn't want to put a cap on it.

And so "The Top ___ of 2011 (an open-ended list)" was born. It contains things such as:
4.: Learn to do something new once a month. This does not mean perfecting or even enjoying it, but at least giving something out of the ordinary a try.
14.: Have an opinion.
2.: Believe the things God has promised me will come to be.

Etc. After writing for a while, I started feeling better and was able to come back to the house. I wasn't really glad that it had happened, but it had, and I came home and was able to be productive.

Around 5:00, I was changing a load of laundry over to the dryer and noticed that the neighbors were standing on their back porch. I was intrigued and walked out on our driveway.



I have never been one to just get in the car and drive. It just seems dumb. It's a waste of gas, a waste of time, a waste of money, and, it's pointless. But I hopped in Mrs. Cleaver (I didn't even grab my cell phone, which was super weird) and I drove. Kans had given me a general heading for the airport, and the GPS found it right as I had to turn.

I drove up these insane twisty roads that you have to go like, 5 MPH on, and the higher I got into the mountains, the more I remembered how much God loved and cared for me.

I eventually stopped at an overlook from which I could see campus, our house, and, well, most of Cullowhee. As the sun set, I started crying again (twice in one day. Whew. That's more than that happens in a month, normally!).

I got home, then the roommates did, and then our friends came over. And honestly, it was one of the best nights of socialization I've had in a long time. Instead of being constantly worried about what everyone else was thinking of me, I felt free to actually be who me was.

I've realized that God did not intend for me to feel rejected; and that the things that God doesn't intend for me are not things that I should accept.

The list is posted next to my bed, and it still kind of pisses me off every time I see it. I don't like the things that I'm asking myself to do, but I'm trusting that it'll help me out in the end.

Also, I'm praying that my life gets less serious soon, because I'm tired of only writing about Jesus things. And because it's stressful. And kind of dull.

I thought maybe if I made it colorful I'd hate it less.